THE CARRIER'S WIFE. "It's O for meat, it's O for drink, IN the suburbs of Strasburg there lived a certain poor woman, by trade a sempstress, who was called Margaret. She was of the middle age; but so cheerful and sweet tempered, and besides so comely, and of such honest repute, that many tradesmen of respectable condition would have been glad to marry her. She had contracted herself, however, to one Kolmarr; a plausible fellow and a carrier, but in reality a smuggler and a very ruffian. Accordingly, whilst their honeymoon was yet in the wane, he began to use her very shamefully, till at last she was worse treated than his mules; upon which he made her to attend whilst he was smoking and drinking with his dissolute comrades. Margaret, notwithstanding, being very humble and industrious, would never have repined at this drudgery; but on any ill luck which happened to him, his contraband wares being sometimes seized upon by the spies, he would beat her in a cruel manner. She concealed this treatment, however, from everybody, hoping some day to reclaim him by her kindness-never reproaching him, indeed, but by haggard and careful looks, which she could not help, for she shrank as often under the pinching hand of want as from that of her brutal husband. Her beauty and strength thus decaying together, she became at last so disgusting to him, that if he had not been as cautious and crafty as he was cruel, he VOL. VI. 1 would have killed her without delay. As it was, he almost starved her, professing extreme poverty; at which Margaret never murmured, but only grieved for his sake over his pretended losses. One day, as she was thus sitting disconsolate at her needlework, and thinking over her hard condition, she heard a gentle knocking at the door, and going to see who it was, she beheld her cousin, a pedlar, who travelled through the country with his box of wares. At first sight of him she was very joyful, not having seen him for many years, but her heart soon sank again into despondence, when she remembered how wretchedly she must entertain him, if at all; for if Kolmarr knew that she bestowed even a crust of bread, he would certainly beat her. She bade her relation, however, to come in and rest himself. "Alas!" she said, "I have nothing to give thee for thy supper, the house is so bare; and what is worse, I dare not make amends to thee with a night's lodging, for my husband is a very shy, reserved man, who cannot endure the presence of a stranger: if he found any one here, therefore, at his return, although he is kind enough upon other occasions, he would certainly chide me." Her kinsman, after musing a little while over these words, answered her thus: "Margaret, I perceive how it is. But do not be uneasy: the best houses may be found unprovided by a random comer. I am prepared, you see, against such emergencies: here is a flask of good wine, with a dried fish or two, and a handful of raisins,--of which I shall be glad to see you partake. Come, fall to;" and laying out his stores upon the table, he began to sup merrily. Margaret, at this sight, was more alarmed than ever; nevertheless, after many persuasions, she began to cat also, but casting her eyes continually towards the door, as if she feared a visit from an Apennine wolf. The time still drawing nearer for Kolmarr to return, she begged her kinsman to dispatch his meal, as he loved her, and then depart. "I will even do as you say," said he, still misunderstanding her; "so now show me to my chamber." To this, Margaret, in great alarm, replied with what she had told him before, beseeching him not to take it ill of her that he could not sleep in her house; but to believe that she regarded it as one of her many misfortunes. "I understand you," said he, "very well; but pray make me no more such excuses. I have told you I am not a man to quarrel with my accommodation. Though the bed be harder, and the sheets more coarse and ragged than you care to treat me with-I should lie very thankfully on the floor. So no words, woman, for hence I will not to-night for a king's bed of down." Margaret, finding him so positive, and observing, besides, that he was flushed with wine, was fain to humour him; however, as she knew he was a discreet man, and that he would depart before sunrise, she hoped he might be lodged there that one night without the knowledge of Kolmarr. She took him up, therefore, into the garret, which contained nothing but a low sorry bed and a long stout rope, which Kolmarr had left there, probably, to tempt her to hang herself; for she had sometimes slept there alone when he ill-treated her. Her cousin, nevertheless, swore that it was a lodging for a prince. "Nay," quoth she, "you are kind enough to view it so; but it is grievously troubled with the rats, as I have had cause to know ;" and then hastily bidding him good night, she went down the stairs again, with her eyes brimful of tears. After she had been down a little while, Kolmarr knocked |